Looking Back

Three Women

This story is about three women, an old one, a middle-aged one and a young one, and I'd better start by telling that I'm the young one. I lived in Denmark at that time, and one day I went to a labour exchange office to see if they could help me find a job. It was the first time I did that, so I was a bit nervous, wondering what kind of work they could offer me, if any.

Behind a big writing-desk a middle-aged woman was sitting. She smiled and asked me to sit down. She told me that her name was Ellen. She was very kind and soon I felt a lot better. We talked and I told her that I had been in domestic service for several years. Then she said, "I might have just the right job for you."

What could that be? Perhaps a cleaning job, I thought. Not that it mattered. I was used to hard work. Then Ellen went on, "We have an elderly lady who needs someone to stay with her during the day. According to her sister-in-law, she is quite senile." Then she told me about the job, that I had to make lunch for Miss Petersen, but a catering service would bring dinner for her every day. I had to stay there until 9 p.m. Then a nurse would come and sleep overnight.

So I got a job, and I was quite happy when I left Ellen's office. I never saw her again, but I'll always remember her smile and kind words.

By coincidence it turned out that Miss Petersen was living in the same apartment building as a friend of mine. So it was easy enough for me to find her place.

The old woman looked very fragile, and she was in bed most of the time. It was true that she had lost her short term memory. I had to be patient with her, as she asked the same questions all day long. Apart from that I didn't think she was that senile.

We talked about a lot of different things. One day Miss Petersen told me that I was the first person for a long time, who had treated her as an adult. "Just because you can't remember, you don't like to be talked to as if you were a child," she said. Apparently she could remember something! I agreed and we kept talking.

She liked to tell me about her younger days, when she was a music teacher at an institution for mentally handicapped children. It was strange, but as soon as the old lady went back in time she remembered everything. It was like old memories, hidden deep in her soul, came bubbling to the surface. Then her eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

She even taught me a Christmas song, both text and melody. She still had a fairly good voice, and she knew every word of that poem by heart. At times like that she showed authority. She was the teacher again, and I was her student!

I liked that poem. It's written by the Danish poet, Zakarias Nielsen. Translated to English the first verse goes something like this: "I hear the bells ringing in the air over the city. It sounds like tones from a thousand harps in the sky. Look up! It's the angels that are singing! They have come to bring good tidings to everyone."

Miss Petersen told me that once, when some dignitaries from Copenhagen were visiting the institution, the children had been entertaining, singing that song. "Could those children ever sing," Miss Petersen said. "Most of the dignitaries had tears in their eyes." She was so proud of those kids. They were her children, and you could hear by the sound of her voice that she loved them.

Then came a day when Miss Petersen became ill and I had to call the doctor. She was taken to the hospital, and she died shortly after. I felt sad about that, but I was glad for the few months I had spent together with her.

Many years later, when I was living in Canada, something else happened. I got a letter from my friend in Denmark. She told me that she had spoken to an elderly lady who had come to live in the same apartment building as her. It turned out to be Ellen from the labour exchange office. As they talked, they came to mention Miss Petersen whom Ellen remembered and surprisingly, she also remembered me. So, through my friend, I received a greeting from her.

I then sent Ellen a letter, telling her how happy I had been for the job long ago, taking care of Miss Petersen and how we had enjoyed each others company. I also sent her a copy of the Christmas poem, which I still had, and I explained how the old lady had taught me the text and melody.

After a while I had a reply from Ellen. In a shaky handwriting she told me that she was ill and that my letter with the poem had meant a lot to her. "It's lying on my night table beside my bed and I read the poem every night before I sleep. That gives me peace of mind," she wrote. A few months later I heard that she had passed away. I still have her letter.

Quite a few years have passed since then. Time does not stand still. It's like a clock. It just keeps ticking. Once there were three women, an old one, a middle-aged one and a young one. Now only the young one is left—and she is getting old. Life is short!

Johanne

When Johanne became a single mother her life changed forever. She had fallen in love with a tall, handsome guy and became pregnant. But it turned out that her boyfriend was not ready to be a husband and a father. He had other plans. He immigrated to America and Johanne never saw him again.

At that time, about a hundred years ago, it was a big shame to be an unmarried mother. Of course, Johanne was not the first young girl getting pregnant, but in most cases the parents were able to arrange a hasty wedding. But Johanne did not have anyone to marry. She did not even have a...